


Puddin

by BlueQuartz



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueQuartz/pseuds/BlueQuartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An attempt to mesh the dark undertones of Nolan-verse with the personality of the animated series' Harley Quinn.</p><p>Before becoming Harley Quinn, she was a woman infatuated with fame and set on making her mark in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puddin

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Nolan-verse Batman films, nor rights to Batman the animated series or rights to the comic canon in question. This is simply a non-profit work of fiction written by a poor fangirl.

–  
Gray storm clouds cluttered the horizon. A garden, if you could call it that, had skeleton trees and plants on death's door. And in front of the taxi was a wrought iron gate. Harleen had to crane her head to see 'Arkham Asylum', just before the gates opened and allowed the yellow vehicle inside. A flash of lightning caused her to shiver.

“Creepy ain't it, miss” the cab driver commented his grip on the steering wheel tightening just a little. “Kind of like a scene out of a horror flick or something”.

“Yeah...something” the woman replied, not really interested in hearing the cabbie's commentary. Sure, it was a touch...spooky. But, spooks were the least of her worries. Harleen was not a stupid girl, she was well aware that this internship was only in her grasp because Professor Stanislavsky was a lonely middle-aged man. He was married with three kids, but what man could resist an eager, willing, and 'virginal' student?

That had been to up her GPA though, however he threw in the bonus of an internship at Gotham's notorious asylum. She would have been insane to turn it down. So like the rungs on the high bar, Harleen grasped the rungs tightly and would hang on to them for dear life.

'An opportunity like this won't come around again, so don't fuck it up, kay Harley.' the young woman told herself as the cab pulled up to the driveway. Once the car was in park and the cabbie had been paid, Harleen opened the door and popped open a small black umbrella.

She had only stepped one foot outside, patent leather stiletto heels just missing a puddle; before someone yelled down to her from the towering stone steps.

“You're late” came a sharp waspish tone, buzzing around Harleen's ears. The blonde cringed a little, but then pushed the rim of her umbrella up to see her supervisor. Jet black hair pulled up into a strict bun, square glasses which did nothing to cover the crows feet under her eyes, and colorless lips pressed together in a severe frown.

“Sorry, traffic was terrible.” Harleen said with a forced-polite smile. “I'm Harleen Qui...”

“I know who you are. Honestly, we don't allow anyone near this place without going so deep into background checks. So much so, we know about parking tickets collected by people's dead grandmothers.”

With that, her supervisor raise her umbrella high, turned and marched up the steps. A dejected Harleen followed behind her, blue eyes narrowed at the other woman's back, 'Bitch'.  
–  
The first hallway looked normal, well if dirty linoleum tiles and cobwebs in the corners was considered normal. Through the second door though, was a security guard, a metal detector, and a locked iron door with bars across it. Without fuss or hesitation, Harleen allowed the guard to frisk her- though he seemed to enjoy it, in her opinion. Then, allowed her purse and briefcase to be ransacked without complaint.  
So far, things were going smoothly. She was calm, clear-headed and under control...at least until the guard opened the gated door. The creak of old metal scrapped against something inside her brain.

Her supervisor marched forward, like a well-trained solider off to fight another battle; while she trailed behind only a few steps. When the guard closed-and locked- the gate behind them, Harleen felt her pulse quicken and something cold settle inside her stomach.

'...what was that all about?' she wondered, puzzled by her reaction. She dared to glance back at the guard who had settled himself back into his chair and feet propped up on the desk. Nothing out of the ordinary.

'It's nothing. Keep moving. Keep walking, Harley.'  
–  
And so she walked, just one step behind the doctor supervising her internship. Dr. Carol. Harleen snorted, in her opinion Dr. Cow would have suited her best. The woman seemed very short fussed and had very little patience for...

“Are you listening?”

Blue eyes blinked as Harleen was shocked out of her thoughts, “...um...yes?”

Dr. Carol stared down at her, looking as if she was about to go elementary school on her ass, and ask Harleen to repeat what she had just said. Instead, the older woman sighed. “Never mind, you can catch up in the briefing I'll give you at the end.”

The blond nodded, only to stop in mid-motion as she noticed the doctor staring at her oddly. After a long pause, Dr. Carol was very blunt, “You...dye your hair, don't you?”

Harleen gave a nervous little laugh. Now was a good time to kiss up.“Kind of, yeah. Oh wow, you're really good, doctor. Normally, people can't tell...”

“Stop. Just stop talking right now, I can't take it.”

Harleen clamped her mouth shut, even though she was seething on the inside. This 'doctor' was obviously jealous. Jealous that she had to watch over a pretty and young thing, while she herself was a dried up old hag.

'I bet she doesn't even have a boyfriend' the blonde thought.

After squirming to keep her all bitterness inside, Harleen was 'treated' by a scathing dressing down.

“First things first, I will not have you follow me and observe how I work with the patients. Not when you look like some bubble-headed bimbo.”

She was so close to barking out a response to that; but Carol cut her off at the pass.

“You will wear sensible shoes. No brand names, sky high heels, etc etc. You will dress modestly and be properly attired at all times. You will not speak to any of the patients. That diploma means nothing to me right now. Your job is to take notes, fill out paperwork, file paperwork and anything else I can think of that needs doing. Any questions?”

Just when Harleen thought it was safe for her to open her mouth, the other woman cut her off once more, her tone brisk and clipped, leaving little room for arguments.

“Good. Because, in case you haven't noticed Miss Quinzel, this isn't a mixer at your sorority house. The people I come into contact with everyday are manipulative, calculating...”

With a smooth motion, Dr. Carol picked up a folder outside one of the locked cells. She could see the name, 'Dr. Crane' typed neatly at the top of the folder just before it was tossed into her arms.

“...lacking in compassion for their fellow man...” another folder, this one started with an I, but Harleen wasn't given enough time to glance at it before Dr. Carol suddenly stopped in front of her.

Stopping short of bruising her nose on the older woman's shoulders, Harleen leaned to the right to look at the door they had stopped in front of. It looked like all the other doors. Plain silver-steel, padlocked tightly. However, Dr. Carol took her time fishing the folder of this one out from it's basket.

And instead of handing it to Harleen, she carried it herself. “And maniacs... who get sick pleasure from other's suffering.” she muttered.  
–  
The first few days of her internship, Harleen found herself confined to Dr. Carol's office. And every hour that ticked by, the more resentful the young woman became. Filing paperwork and filing was NOT what she had singed up for. She hadn't wasted years of her life, breaking her back studying, just to be shoved into a broom-closet with nothing but papers and a computer old enough to be a fossil.

With a heavy sigh, Harleen mindlessly tip-tapped on the keyboard keys, gibberish springing up on the square monitor with each stroke. Bored out of her mind, she tried to think up of ways to get into those interviews. What was taking Dr. Cow so long to let her sit in on one of the sessions?

How much longer would she have to wait?

'How much longer, until I become famous?' she thought. Some psychology students enter the field to help people. Perhaps, they too harbored some dark past or secret shame and had overcome those things and wanted to help others. Or maybe, they just had kind humanitarian souls.

Harleen on the other hand, while not a complete monster; didn't share the same crusader-spirit of her classmates. She knew Gotham was full of the most interesting sickos around. Each one of them so complex, mysterious, gruesome in their own ways, and larger than life. Harleen didn't want to save these people from their demons. Instead, she wanted to drag the monsters out from under beds and insides of closets. Into the daylight.

She wanted to slay monsters and get all the glory. Harleen Quinzel fancied herself to be a writer, one with juicy secrets to tell. Sure she carried on a bit at the mouth, but there was so much more she observed and kept between sealed lips. Oh the stories she could tell, if just given a chance to talk one-on-one with some of Arkham Asylum most depraved crooks...err patients.

However, it seemed that chance would never come. Two weeks crawled right past her. Too much time was being squandered, but Dr. Carol was adamant. No sitting in on her sessions until she was 'ready'.

Impatient as she was, Harleen knew she had to go in with a plan. Dr. Carol wasn't an idiot or a professor easily charmed by curves and kisses. She'd have to work around those iron walls and worm her way into the woman's good graces...but how?

Suddenly, the opportunity presented itself, literally falling in her lap one lazy afternoon. Harleen was startled awake when someone opened the door to the office. Thinking it was Dr. Carol, she scrambled to look alert and busy. The reflection on the dead monitor, showed that instead of the slim doctor, it was the security guard from up front.

“Sorry that I...woke you up, Doctor Q.”

She gave him a tight smile, 'Jesus, he's the only one that calls me doctor around here, but doesn't use my full name. Ain't life a gripe.' Sitting up at the desk, Harleen was surprised when the guard tossed her a file folder. Her face twisted into a look that screamed, 'Oh god, not another one!'

“This fell out of Doctor C's bag earlier. Thought it was important enough to hand it to her...or you...in person.”

Harleen's smile returned, ten times brighter than it was before and much more sincere. A little light bulb had been turned on. “I'll take it right to her. Thanks uh...” blue eyes wandered to look at his badge. 'J. Johnson' Harleen felt a bout of very immature and unprofessional laughter bubble up inside her throat.

She quickly squashed that impulse down. None of that. No. She could laugh until her sides ache when she got home. Still, it was hard to keep her voice level and controlled, so her thanks to Officer Johnson came out kind of like a squeak.  
–  
Once out of the office, Harleen took in a deep breath. This was her chance, she'd hand the folder over to Dr. Carol, sweet and compliant as pie. And maybe, just maybe she could sit in on her morning session. Her brain still a bit addled by sleep, Harleen had a tough time recalling which patient Dr. Carol would be interviewing today.

The patients didn't have names with Dr. Carol, just case numbers. Not too much unlike prisoners in an actual jail, Harleen mused to herself. Normally, the patient files had names typed on the flap, not so with this one. The folder in her hands lacked a name though- first or last. Just a singular J and a patient number. A swipe of her security card and she was allowed deeper into the bowels of the asylum. The closer the brunette got to the interview quarters, the more she was itching to crack open the file. Dr. Carol rarely took home with her, unless it was the case she'd be studying/treating the next day.

'Who could it be? Who could it be? Who...' she wondered, nearly eaten up with curiosity.

Her 'sensible' flats stopped in front of the door. Holding the folder close to her body, Harleen swiped the security card. The buzzer went off and she pushed on the door just enough so it gave and opened up. Once on the other side, Harleen blinked- eyes adjusting to the dim lighting.

She was in a small room. In front of her was a pane of what looked like glass- but had to be made of something strong, what with housing insane...uh mentally ill patients. To the right of the window, was a door. However, Harleen had her sights set on the three occupants.

Two large male orderlies, who could have easily moonlighted as night club bouncers. They stood shoulder to shoulder in their powder blue uniform smocks and pants. A few paces in front of them was the patient.

Harleen didn't know who he was. Odd...she had looked up and read the files of the current residents of Arkham and this guy's picture never came up. 'Come on Harley...think. Come on, you know who this joker is...'

Then, it clicked. Granted it was a few years ago, but how could she have forgotten? She had graduated with a Bachelors and was on the fast track to getting her Masters degree. Then, disaster struck Gotham like a hurricane. The university shut down for several weeks, while the city tried to build itself up. Explosions. Carefully orchestrated murders of prominent officials. It was 'him'. He was behind all of that mayhem and destruction three years ago.

Or...maybe it wasn't? The picture Harleen remembered seeing on the news and the man before her, looked so very different. The lack of make-up and his hair had been slicked back rather than a crazy 'green' tangle. But those scars. Those huge 'grinning' scars around his mouth. No. There was no mistaking it.

Her hands started to shake, a sick warmth pooling in her gut. But, Harleen was not awash in a sense of terror. No, she was excited. Elated, in fact. On today, of all days. Of all the hundred something patients caged inside this dreary despot, she had hit the jackpot.

Oh to be given the chance to crack him open. Get a peek inside that twisted mind of his.

'Think of all the things I could learn from him' a part of Harleen whispered to herself. To write books of course. She'd learn what made him tick, then pen a bestseller for it. I

It was at that moment, Harleen noticed Dr. Carol was missing. 'Maybe she left to make a phone call...or use the restroom...or...' a million possibilities rattled off in her head. All of them came down to one conclusion: 'This is it. This is my chance...'.

Not sure what to do with this chance, she simply went along with the impulse to swipe her card one last time. Two buzzers went off this time, a red light going off above her. She shoved on the door so hard, it swung open at her entrance. The nurses jerked into alertness, looking first to the patient, then the half-open doorway. He simply sat there though, gaze fixated on the young woman who just busted in.

Embarrassed she had caused such a fuss, Harleen quickly composed herself and strode to the table as if nothing had happened. Putting on her best stoic face, Harleen smoothed her modest pencil skirt, before sitting down in the chair across from the table.

The patient, the Joker, blinked at her. Almost like he wasn't sure what to make of her. Harleen smiled inwardly. If he was already caught off guard, then she had the upper hand. Good, good. She'd need it.

One of the orderlies spoke up, “Uh Miss, I don't know how you got in here, but only Dr. Carol has clearance to be in the room with him...”

Harleen smiled and waved off his concerns, “It's fine. Dr. Carol is a bit tied up at the moment” she hoped. “So, I'll sit in for her and continue the interview.”

The male nurses exchanged worried looks, but challenging her right to be there was above their pay grade.

“Now then...” Harleen began, pulling out a pair of fake glasses out of her blouse pocket and put them on, “where did Doctor Carol leave off with you?”

When he didn't answer right away, Harleen looked up from the open folder in her lap, to the patient. He was still staring her down, expression momentarily uncertain. Then, he smiled. No, it was larger than a smile. More like a grin. A wide, scarred, crazy Cheshire Cat grin.

“My, my, my...they've run out of head doctors so now they're recruiting kids?”

Now it was Harleen's turn to feel shaken. She had gone in thinking that his scars weren't the horrific, but when he smiled...oh it seemed like the stuff of nightmares. Now, she felt afraid. 'No, no, no, no, no! Harley, you can't let him do this to you! Don't let him win!'

“Actually, Mr...” she looked down. No first or last name. “...Joker. I'm quite competent and capable to conduct your therapy session...”

“Blah blah blah blah blah.” he said, a shackled hand opening and closing like a gaping mouth. Then, he lazily leaned back in his chair.

“I suppose you have bits of paper, like her, hm? Documents...to show how...how intelligent you are. Am I right, doc?” His tongue slipped out, moistening those lips she did not want to look at -yet couldn't tear herself away either.

“Actually yes...yes I do...” she said with a slight cough, forcing blue eyes to look anywhere but staring directly at him- forgetting the important rule about keeping eye contact.

Then, he did the strangest thing. The Joker giggled at her, “Has anyone ever told you...you'd look cuter as a blonde?”

'How does he know that?' Harleen wondered. After Dr. Carol had that 'talk' with her on the first day, she had colored her hair back to it's natural mousey brown. All the better to blend into the dreary background and to not outshine Dr. Carol.

“...a few people have. But, we're not here to talk about me, we're here to talk about you, Mr. Joker.”

He snorted in response and grumbled under his breath.

Blue eyes widened behind false specs, “I'm sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“I said...don't call me that, makes me feel...old.”

“Ah,” she replied. It was too early for a break threw, so Harleen tried not to get too excited. Tried, but did not succeeded.

“So, what should I call you then?”

He grinned once more, but it was less threatening- and smaller- this time, “Anything you wanna call me”

It was like a jolt, right to her heart. Harleen thought it was strange. She didn't feel afraid of this man. 'He's a murderer, an arsonist, he's killed and tried to kill so many, many people just for kicks. Don't slip and fall, Harley.'

The young woman pulled back from the table, back straight against the chair, “Well then...Joker will do for now. So, Joker what do you want to talk...”

Suddenly, the two buzzes went off and the door swung inward.

“Sorry, didn't' mean to keep you waiting...” Dr. Carol paused. Her gaze floated to Harleen, to the Joker, then back to her young intern. Then, she quickly reached over Harleen and took the folder into her hands.

“Thank you for finding this for me, Miss Quinzel, but I think you should wait outside.” the last part said lowly and between gritted teeth.

'Oh crap...I've really, really blown it this time.' Immediately, the young woman bolted upright and out of the chair. Despite herself, she let out a nervous laugh, “Uh...I was just keeping the seat warm for you Doctor Carol.”

The stern look on her supervisor's face clearly stated that she was far from amused. However, someone got the joke, because the patient started cackling. Hands smacked against the table and he was howling with laughter. Harleen could only offer up a weak smile.

“See? I do have a sense of humor. He thinks I'm funny...” she said lightly. Then, she decided to scurry out of the room before her internship was terminated. Dr. Carol looked pissed off enough to consider such a thing.

Just as she was about to close the door, Harleen thought she over heard the Joker musing aloud.

“You know what doc, I kind of like her. She's got spunk.”

For some strange reason, that made her smile.  
–  
Standing on the other side of the glass, Harleen watched as Dr. Carol tried every trick in the books to get the man in front of her to talk.

While she watched, knowing she should be taking notes; Harleen couldn't help but feel a sense of smugness.

'He talked to me. Granted, he made fun of me too. At least I got him to say something than 'yes' or 'no'.

After standing in front of the window for forty minutes, Harleen saw Dr. Carol close the folder and stand up.

“I think that's enough for today. I'll see you Wednesday”

“Can't wait...I'll be counting down the hours until I see your cheerful face again.”

Dr. Carol's frown deepened in response as she turned to exit the room. Harleen wasn't watching her though. The Joker had something in his hand. A...piece of paper? Where had he gotten that from, she wondered.

Harleen blinked as he held the paper up. It was...folded into the shape of a heart. Odd. Next, he held it up for her to see.

“See you later, Puddin” she repeated.

Puddin?  
–  
Back at her apartment, Harleen turned on the water to the sink. A bottle of blond hair dye left unopened at her right. Lifting her face, Harleen looked in the mirror and turned the box over and over in her hands.

'You shouldn't be doing this, Harley. You nearly lost it all today. What would Doctor Carol think if you came in and your hair was bleached again?'

Harleen chewed the inside of her lip. “But, he said I'd look cute as a blond. What am I saying?” she asked the bathroom mirror. The young woman then bent down and put the hair dye away in a cupboard- she couldn't throw it away, not after paying good money for it.

Now, standing up right and in facing the mirror again, Harleen felt compelled to try something. The corners of her lips twitched, stretched, and extended past the point of comfort. A large and rather demented looking smile formed on her mouth. After holding that expression for a moment, Harleen let her facial muscles relax.

“That kind of hurts,” Harleen complained. She then spied the messy pile of make-up and reached for a tube of ruby red lipstick. The cap came off with a pop and her 'smile' went back to being unnaturally wide and more than a little bit crazy.

A quick swipe of color, running over the lips up to the cheekbones, then repeated on the other side. With the lipstick capped again, Harleen grinned into the mirror. The blood red 'cuts' painted on her cheeks looked about as close to the 'real thing' as she could get.

She shuddered, taken aback by the dark turn her thoughts were taking. On came the water tap and she used a washcloth to scrub all that red away.  
However, while the color was off her face Harleen had a sneaking suspicion it was there to stay. Lingering just underneath her skin.


End file.
